


Misstep

by dead_bread



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blind Character, Bullying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-23 21:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_bread/pseuds/dead_bread
Summary: There's no real particular destination in mind; at least, not anymore.All he can do now is blindly walk forward and hope he doesn't sink.-In which Shuichi must cope with suddenly being blind, being bullied, and perhaps being loved. (EDITED 1ST CHAPTER 02/24)





	1. A Little Bit Colder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fan-fic ever, so please have mercy on me lol...
> 
> Also edited this for like the third time and am now satisfied with where I am going, plus it's a little longer than it originally was! :)

Two weeks into his rehabilitation, and Shuichi is getting frustrated.

He's not sure how long he's been sitting there, glossing his fingers against the same set of bumps over and over without really reading them. The room he sits in is uncomfortably warm, the late summer day sweltering in distant and repressed hues of ugly gold, adding to the storm that roared in his head.

Braille was difficult, and these sorts of things takes time. But even when everyone says the same thing, gives him the same reassurances that _he'll get better at it_ and _it's not your fault_ , it...it just makes him feel incompetent.

More so than before.

Shuichi, in an effort to stifle his bubbling anxiety and shame, begins to drag his nails all across the page of the book he'd been given. He recalls two, maybe even three of the letters out of the whole excerpt, but the rest of the translation eludes him. He scratches and scratches and _scratches,_ yet the words remain transparent.

 "...Saihara-san?" His tutor, Ms. Kajiwara, sounds so far away, and in a voice seeped with polite boredom and visceral pink. "Finished already? Do you want a break?"

His hands quickly retreat into his lap, and he winces when he pretty much bangs the knuckle of his pinky finger against the edge of his desk. In the darkness that's settled permanently in his eyes, he liked to think the sharp pain had sent some sort of signal to his brain, like an angry flash of bright yellow.

"A-Actually, um..." He stammers, swallowing thickly. "...I-I can't...I can't read this p-page."

There's a sort of long, if not ungodly pause that makes Shuichi wish the ground would just open up and swallow him whole already.

"What, did you forget everything already?" Ms. Kajiwara huffs. "You were fine with last week's lesson!"

He desperately clawed for some sort of excuse, racking his already exhausted brain for anything better than _'I forgot, sorry'_. "I-I...uh...ah...I..."

"Alright, alright, hold on."

He hears rustling papers and the clack of a pen, then followed by the sharp squeal of a chair against the hard floor. Every one step is ominous shade of terra cotta in his mind's eye, flashing with every booming click of the heel before he feels an intimidating presence looming over his shoulder.

"We'll read this page together, okay? But you _better_ study the alphabet again before next week's lesson. I don't want to be holding your hand the whole time." Ms. Kajiwara doesn't even bother to hide the irritation in her voice, and it made Shuichi's stomach coil nauseatingly. "Give me your hands."

He hesitates, but eventually complies and raises his hands. Ms. Kajiwara takes them roughly into her own soft and warm ones and directs him back onto the book, pressing his fingers against the set of bumps near the corner of the page. She reads to the both of them, moving his finger along each of the Braille letters, unaware that the boy beneath her was no longer paying attention.

Because despite everything, Shuichi was still a shy and nervous wreck around strangers. The warmth that his tutor exuded was terrifying, like an amalgamation of maroons and purples and neon greens. He tried to focus on anything else, on the desk that his elbows sat upon with the glossy blue surface and the rich red metal legs that stained his pants a stinging cold orange.

It's unrealistic, perhaps even a little bit childish and silly; but it was grounding all the same, if only by a little bit. After all, Shuichi's only other connection to his surroundings was the colors in his memories.

So at the very least, even if he didn't a gain a single thing out of this week's lesson, he felt a little closer to the world that, quite literally, vanished before his very eyes, and that was enough for now.

* * *

 

Shuichi spends six out of seven days inside a house he no longer recognizes.

Every morning, he has to wake the taste of static smeared across his teeth and tongue, drawing in small ragged breaths that leave him dizzier than before. It was like sinking into a pit of quicksand, like drowning in a sea of wriggling, writhing insects. Sometimes, it leaves him paralyzed with fear for hours on end. Sometimes, it leaves him in such a terrified and panicked state that he has to claw at his face and throat until the feeling is overpowered by pain.

He hates it, being left alone in his room to his own muddling thoughts, _blind._ His uncle is always, _always_ gone at this hour, working the second job he'd taken up after Shuichi had lost his sight, trusting him to be safe alone when he really, really shouldn't.

But he understands why. Hell, his uncle understood _more._ They were closer than Shuichi was with his own parents, and it was his uncle who inspired Shuichi to work towards becoming a detective. He wouldn't ever push, but instead nudge his nephew into the right direction whenever he was feeling lost or confused, and Shuichi appreciated it.

Perhaps that was why the two suddenly felt so disconnected from each other, why his uncle worked himself to the very bone to make Shuichi as comfortable as possible, why Shuichi felt less like a nephew and more like another burden perched on the man's shoulders.

Perhaps that was why Shuichi felt so frustrated, _so restless_ , that he found himself lurching for the door one late afternoon, not wanting to give in to the abysmal dark.

It's a long and difficult endeavor in itself. He doesn't really remember the layout of his room, and he desperately tries to remember the popcorn ceiling and the pale lavender walls. He also remembers the small folding table in the center of the room, and the plethora of books scattered all along the floor and shelves. But the rest of the room remains blurred and twisted.

In his haste to leave the suffocating embrace of his room, Shuichi had left his cane near the foot of his bed, which left him stumbling and hissing as he stepped on trash and banged his foot against the furniture. Yet somehow, by some ungodly miracle, he manages to reach his desk, feel along the wall, and guide himself to the door.

As soon as his fingers wrap around the doorknob, he falters, hesitating, reduced to the pathetic child he was once again. His uncle trusted him to stay in his room, where it was _safe._ He was already doing so much for his nephew, so much more than Shuichi could ever ask for; was this really worth breaking that trust?

He thinks of lying back in bed. Of lingering in the dark and the loneliness it wrought. Of drowning further and further into the sense of dread and despair until he withered and rotted on the spot, leaving nothing more but a useless heap of flesh and bone.

He thinks of _disappearing._ Thinks of completely removing himself from the lives of his parents and uncle, if only to lessen the weight they had to carry with having a disabled son. Thinks of any other way to avoid the tiring reassurances and vague disappointment.

He almost complies, he really does, but Shuichi quickly shakes the thoughts out of his head and steels his resolve. No, he _had_ to work through this. At least until he can pay back his uncle in full, for everything he's done for him.

He'll be fine. He could do this.

It's not like he was running away or anything. He just...needed to get out, just for a little while.

Shuichi opens the door.

Four steps later, he is unfortunately reminded that his bedroom sits atop a set of stairs.

* * *

 

His uncle returns home some time later, tired and irritable, and nearly has a heart attack when he sees his nephew wandering about in the kitchen.

"S-Shuichi!?"

The boy freezes in his tracks for a moment, fear crossing his face before he practically _brightens._ He looks in the general direction of his caretaker, hopeful and elated, and thinks he's proven something worthwhile, like independence or determination.

It all comes crashing down, however, when his uncle lets out a strangled gasp, and suddenly there are frantic hands on Shuichi's face.

"H-How did you get these bruises?!"

They argue back and forth for a little bit, with his words vile and blistering blue and his uncle's a simmering slap of amber. Then, with a hiss, Shuichi backs down and lets himself be escorted back into his room, where he promptly slams the door shut before his uncle could enter.

He locks it too, just to be petty.

His uncle doesn't say anything for the long while, but he does eventually go away. Shuichi huffs and sniffles and rubs furiously at his eyes in an effort to stifle the burning wetness, refusing to cry because _he didn't do anything wrong._ Why, why, _why_ couldn't he prove that? Why couldn't he do anything right?!

Shuichi slumps onto the floor with his back against the door, curling into himself, as he buries his face into the crook of his knees. His throat was clenched shut, his stomach rolling mockingly, and _oh_ , it would've been so easy right then and there to just _end it._ Scratch at the ugly feelings until they've all gone away, until his fingers were dyed in mesmerizing colors of bright greens and pretty pastel blues.

But he doesn't. His resolve's nothing like before, after having been torn apart by his uncle's scolding. He's just another mass of blood and meat with a rotten brain, useless as ever.

He cries, and is eventually claimed by sleep.

* * *

 

_In the stillness of the waters, Shuichi finds himself being drawn towards the horizon._

_He's knee-deep in a black ocean, chasing after a bright setting sun in tattered gray clothes. The sea-salt breeze is sharp to the tongue and dizzyingly familiar, and the red-hued warmth burns against the stark white of his skin._

_Something hovers behind him, lingering over his shoulder like some sort of ghost. It whispers something, in a voice dribbling mauve, and lays a hand on atop his hair. For a moment, it's warm and comforting, but the familiarity of it all eventually dissipates into sharp, ringing shades of rusty orange._

_Shuichi bites his tongue though and continues onward, even if there were nails digging deep into his scalp, clawing away at the walls he's built to protect himself. He wouldn't let it take him. He wouldn't let himself be weak yet._

_To where he was going, he didn't know. There's no real particular destination in mind; at least, not anymore._

_All he can do now is blindly walk forward and hope he doesn't sink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time, shuichi visits a park and meets his new babysitter.
> 
> see you sunday!


	2. Small Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i would update every sunday and where I am it is 7:40 pm at the moment i'm posting so teCHNICALLY I DIDN'T LIE HAHA
> 
> also sorry this took so long for me to update lol, i'll try not to let it happen again! if you haven't checked already, i edited the first chapter (again) so please re-read it. thanks.

"Can we talk, Shuichi?"

His uncle's been knocking at his door for quite some time now, and Shuichi has half a mind to ignore him for a while longer. He even considers falling back asleep.

"Look, I just..." His uncle starts to say, sighing, "...I'm sorry, okay? I know you're mad at me, and I know you think a lot of this is unfair, but..."

There's a long, uncomfortable pause that has Shuichi straining his ears just to make sure his uncle was still there.

"I worry about you, Shuichi. I know you're independent, I know you don't like to be coddled and cosseted, but I'm your uncle, and I'm responsible for everything that happens. I just...I just want to make things right. For _you_."

"...I-I..." Shuichi stammers out, wincing at how hoarse he sounded and how raw his throat felt. He was somewhat glad his uncle couldn't see him. "I-I get that, a-and I appreciate everything you do, I really do! T-That's...That's why I...um...I need to do b-better."

"Better?" His uncle echoes, confused. "But you're—"

"I'm _not_ fine, uncle!" He didn't mean to sound so angry, but in the end his voice was trembling with fury and fizzling orange. "A-All I do is...All I do is just _sit_ here and do nothing! I can't read, I can't write, I can't even talk to anyone until the next semester starts! I want to do things too! I want to _help_ , and I...I can't!"

Shuichi breathes heavily, trying to slow his pounding heart and racing thoughts, threading his hands furiously into his hair until it's a knotted, tangled mess. He hates this. He absolutely _hates_ this. He can't be trusted to take care of himself, and so he's just going to stay locked up in here forever and _rot_ because apparently, that's all he's ever good for.

Until, suddenly, his uncle laughs a watery laugh.

"God, we're a mess, aren't we?"

And Shuichi laughs too, because well, they really were, and that's closer than anything he's ever achieved with someone else. "Y-Yeah...yeah..."

"Let's work something out." His uncle says after catching his breath, jiggling the doorknob. "C'mon, open the door. We'll go for a walk, yeah? Blow off some steam at the park or something."

Shuichi nods, and he feels a little lighter than before.

Warm, and brighter than ever.

* * *

 

There's a lot of things that Shuichi realizes he has to take into account when going out into public spaces.

Like, for example, the people themselves. He's no stranger to bullies and gossipers, but now he has to deal with the likes of children too. While his uncle gently directed him towards what sounded like a large water fountain, he heard a voice shout something.

"Mommy, that boy's cane looks funny!"

"Hush, Teruo, he's just... _special._ Stop pointing!"

"B-But it looks like a candy cane...?"

Shuichi felt his face grow hot with embarrassment, and quickly tugs his uncle back so they could stop. He considers folding his cane, of discarding it into some nearby trash can because it already attracted so much unnecessary attention towards him, but decides against it.

"C-Can we...Can we walk somewhere else?" He asks shyly. "S-Someplace, um, less crowded?"

"Oh, Shuichi..." His uncle doesn't sound mad or disappointed; just a little sad. "You...You do realize you'll have to walk around crowds by yourself, right? Someone isn't always going to be there to help you..."

"I know, I know...Sorry..."

His uncle doesn't reply, but they do turn back and follow some other unfamiliar route around the park. Shuichi weaves his cane around with a little more ease, trying to recreate the pavement beneath his feet in his mind's eye, a winding pathway of sun-bleached pink.

"...Actually, I think now's a good time for me to ask." His uncle adds, after a moment of mutual silence. "I did some research about your new school, Shuichi, and I read that they accept service animals. I was wondering if you would consider taking one?"

"L-Like a guide dog?"

"Yeah. There's an institute somewhere downtown that gives you training, too, and they're pretty reliable. I-I was hoping to enroll you into one of their courses soon so you could get a seeing dog before the semester starts."

"O-Oh, uh..." In all honesty, Shuichi wasn't too keen on the idea. He didn't do well with animals, and he's never really had to care for one in the past. "...isn't that...expensive?"

"Perhaps." His uncle says tightly, and it makes the boy's stomach do nervous flips. "But I don't care about the price, Shuichi. I want to make sure you're safe out here, when I'm not around. People will take advantage of you because you're blind, and sometimes the adults won't always listen to you. The emotional support is good, yeah, but I think getting you a service dog would be a lot safer than leaving you alone with a folding cane."

It's logical, and very understandable, but...

"I-I've...I've never taken care of a dog before, though..." Shuichi admits, and he has a feeling his face is beet-red.

"Oh...uh..." His uncle suddenly sounds very nervous. "You don't need to worry about that. I, uh, have a friend coming to watch over you while I'm at work. I'm sure they'll take care of it, when the time comes."

Shuichi hums, then pauses when the words finally sink in.

"...Huh?"

* * *

 

"My name is Makoto Naegi." Says the plain, unfamiliar voice. "I'm a...uhhh...well, I guess you can say I'm a friend of a friend of your uncle's."

Shuichi smiles nervously, unsure of how to respond. "U-Um...s-so you...don't work at the same place as my uncle?"

"Huh? Oh, no, no, no!" Mr. Naegi stammers quickly, and for some reason Shuichi could just _imagine_ the guy flailing his hands in front of him. "I mean, we used to work in same division! We just...didn't really talk to each other much, I guess? Then I got moved to another station up north, so...yeah."

The conversation was starting to stale, and it felt as though the room was shrinking down on the both of them, the silence thick and tense enough to choke.

"To be honest, your uncle asked my friend to come over and make sure you were okay." There's something in Mr. Naegi's tone that resonates within Shuichi, something akin to envy or sadness. "Kyoko Kirigiri? I'm sure you've heard about her, she's pretty good at what she does."

"O-Oh, yeah!" And suddenly, as though a switch had been flipped, Shuichi was delighted to talk. Even if he sounded like a child, even if he stuttered and snubbed his words, it was a wonderful change in pace. It definitely beat sulking in his room for hours on end until his uncle returned, who was obviously too tired to listen to him. "I-I've studied some of Ms. Kirigiri's cases, actually!"

"Yeah?" Mr. Naegi's voice brightened too. "Any one in particular that caught your eye?" He paused, then coughed to the side. "Uh, that's not what I...no offense or any—"

"Genocide Jack." Shuichi quickly interrupts, not wanting to be reminded that he was surrounded by eggshells. "I...I heard that the killer had killed over a thousand people, and that they always leave some sort of message at the scene, written with the blood of their victims. A lot of investigators tried to gather clues, but they eventually gave up, and the case went cold for a while...until Ms. Kirigiri took it into her own hands. She's still studying it to this day, I think, but I heard she managed to find clues after reaching out to some big shot company! I-I think they were called...uh..."

"Togami Corporation?"

"Yeah!"

Shuichi could both hear _and_ feel the smile in Mr. Naegi's voice when he next spoke. "Yeah, she didn't really get along with the CEO at first, so I had to step in and coax him into helping us."

"Eh? You were there too!?"

"Well, yeah? I'm Kyoko's assistant."

For the next few hours, Shuichi excitedly listened to Mr. Naegi as he recounted some of his cases, and the cases of his colleague too. He described everything as vividly as possible, and Shuichi imagined a man and a woman in a dimly alleyway, dusk looming over them, as they chase after the shadows of killers and crooks alike.

He lives in the colors of Makoto Naegi's words and memories, even if he still has no idea what the man himself looked like, and Shuichi savored every last second of it.

* * *

 

When his uncle returns home, he expects the worse, but is surprised to see Shuichi sleeping peacefully on the living room sofa, tucked snuggly beneath a blanket.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think this kid was _your_ kid." Says Makoto Naegi with a teasing smile, his gaze on the boy soft and fond. "He's pretty interesting to talk to, but I have a sneaking suspicion he got his merciless cross-examination skills from a certain someone."

Shuichi's uncle lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and grins back. "Better watch your back then, he's a fast learner."

"I don't doubt it. I wouldn't even be surprised if he replaced me! I'm as plain as they come, and Shuichi would make a great addition at the station." Makoto trails off for a moment, then sighs. "It's such a shame. Like, I know he has plenty of other opportunities to choose in the future, but something tells me none of them would ever really satisfy him as much as investigating does."

"He'll find something." Shuichi's uncle huffs. "Maybe not a detective, but something close enough. Don't go giving up on him just yet."

"I'm not, I'm not!" Makoto holds his hands up defensively, then smiles. "Guess I'll just have to stick around and observe him for a while longer, yeah?"

* * *

 

_In his dreams, Shuichi stands atop a rooftop that's reaching for a blood-red sky._

_Makoto Naegi stands before him without a face, without any real definitive features, and yet somehow the boy still recognizes him. He tilts his head side to side, then speaks in a flickering voice._

_"What do you want to do, Shuichi?"_

_Shuichi opens his mouth to respond, but all that tumbles out is bleeding blues and gleaming screws. A hand suddenly lays itself on his shoulder, and when he turns he sees the faceless, undefined figure of his uncle._

_"What do you want, Shuichi?"_

_Something starts to pool around their feet, pink and rising upward, too thick to be water. The smell of iron is nauseating, and just before he collapses into the substance, Shuichi mumbles._

_"I don't know."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time, shuichi meets a certain breeder and gains a pupper just in time for school.
> 
> see you next sunday!


End file.
